


When the light goes out, this isn't the end.

by roselew



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselew/pseuds/roselew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The revelation that Troy’s trip hadn’t been as fun as he’d made it out to be came nearly a week after his return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the light goes out, this isn't the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Troy was kidnapped by pirates. 
> 
> People don't talk about this a lot. 
> 
> I wonder why.
> 
> Written for the following tumblr Prompts:
> 
> -"oh fuck, OH FUCK"  
> -"Please I just… really need space right now"  
> -"I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

The revelation that Troy’s trip hadn’t been as fun as he’d made it out to be came nearly a week after his return. 

He hadn’t been sleeping a lot - Abed could sometimes hear him wandering around the apartment in the early hours of the morning, opening cupboards and watching the TV on mute. Abed asked him about it one morning over a bowl of cereal; Troy grinned, said that sleeping on a boat was different, he just wasn’t used to sleeping on solid ground, yet. Abed believed him. 

His tiredness began to show in the heaviness of his eyes, the slow clumsiness of his hands. Sometimes, his eyes would lose focus and he’d stare, stare, stare at a spot on the wall or the floor or lay his hands flat on his thighs and curl his fingers into fists over and over, nails cutting crescents into his palms, and it took a few minutes of watching him for Abed to realise that maybe he was trying to keep himself from falling asleep. He didn’t ask about it; whatever Troy was doing, it seemed private.

On the sixth day, Troy fell asleep, curled up tightly in one of the armchairs. 

Abed crept around the apartment more quietly than he needed to: Troy slept like a log, most of the time, but it had been nearly a week and he hadn’t seen Troy get more than a few hours of sleep - he didn’t want to risk anything. He busied himself around the apartment; re-organising the DVD shelf and picking up food wrappers he’d forgotten existed. Troy was silent and still, besides his breathing, and Abed was glad he was finally resting. 

Only an hour later, Troy moved; Abed heard him shift restlessly, and looked up from the dishes he was drying and watched him, cautiously. Troy sighed, frowned, drew his fists close to his chest, and Abed crept closer.

They had decided, a long time ago, that nightmares weren’t awesome. After a particularly difficult night (they had watched a lot of horror movies, that day), Troy suggested that they always wake each-other in the event that one of them had a nightmare. They didn’t do it often - usually because they both slept at the same time, but Abed could count a handful of times Troy had shaken him awake to inform him he was having a bad dream.

He wasn’t sure if that applied, here.

Troy was definitely dreaming, and it certainly didn’t seem good, at least. Troy’s nightmares were usually obvious - tossing and turning and muttering to himself. This was…not. Abed stood for a long few moments.

"Troy?" He said, carefully. Troy didn’t wake - he made a soft, high noise in his throat, turned his face away until his cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"Troy?" He said again, and flinched as Troy jerked awake, shuddered, reached his hands out and dug his fingers into the arms of the chair. For a bare moment, he was quiet - his breath coming rapidly, eyes darting around the room, and Abed realised why Troy hadn’t wanted to sleep. 

"Oh, fuck." Troy whispered, panic rising in his voice, getting uneasily to his feet and brushing past Abed like he wasn’t there. His fingers trembled at his sides, and he made it only a few feet before he stopped, swaying slightly, reaching out one arm to steady himself against the wall. "Fuck!" He said again, louder, voice catching thickly in his throat, breathing as though he might cry, shoulders heaving with it. 

Abed was familiar with anxiety attacks - he’d had his share of them throughout his life. He wasn’t familiar with other people having them, however. He went to Troy, concerned, and tried to meet his eyes: Troy’s were stuck stubbornly to the floor, and Abed spoke quietly. 

"Troy, look at me." 

Troy let out a sobbing breath, shook his head, tightened his fingers convulsively until his nails dug into his palms. Abed reached out, paused, dropped his hand, ducked his head to see Troy’s face better.

"Everything’s fine." Abed said, voice measured and gentle in a way he was used to hearing from other people. Troy sniffed, shook his head like he didn’t believe him. "You’re home. You’re safe." He continued, and remembered hearing those exact words from Troy, once. "I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere."

Troy said nothing - breathed hard like he thought every breath was his last, occasionally let out a gasping sob that made Abed’s chest ache. A few minutes passed, and Troy turned, slid down the wall he leant on to sit, legs bent at the knee, arms wrapped around his torso. Abed followed, hesitantly, and waited while Troy quieted, plucking at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans. 

"Do you want a hug?" He asked, eventually, once Troy’s breaths evened out, the trembling limited to just his hands. Troy shook his head, but his arms tightened around himself. 

"I just…really need space right now." He said.

Abed smiled, just a little, even thought Troy wasn’t looking.

"Okay. You want me to leave you alone?" He asked, and Troy shook his head, again, dropping his forehead to his knees. He sniffed, and Abed wondered if he was crying. 

"I wish I’d stayed here." He said, muffled. "I wish-" He paused, swallowed audibly. "I wish I’d never gone on that boat." He raised his head, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, muttered a curse under his breath.

Abed averted his eyes, looked back to the loose thread on his jeans. They had heard about the pirates: ‘LeVar Burton and non-celebrity companion captured by pirates in the gulf of Mexico.’ For weeks, the group was worried sick - exchanging any information they could find to assure themselves that Troy was safe. A month later, they received a letter from Troy - telling them he was fine, and that their journey was more than halfway over. He’d be home soon. 

They’d talked about it, briefly. Troy had laughed, talked about it as if it had been an adventure. Abed supposed he hadn’t noticed at the time how eager Troy was to change the subject; how he’d curled his hands into fists until the conversation was over. He looked back to Troy, guilt stinging in the pit of his stomach. He should have noticed earlier. 

Besides him, Troy sighed, scrubbed his hands over his face before dropping them into his lap. He glanced, finally, at Abed. 

"I’m so damn tired."

Abed met his gaze, just for a moment, tilted his head a little. 

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked, quietly, and Troy said nothing for a few moments.

"Just…sit with me, for a while?" He answered, and Abed nodded, leaned back against the wall, and waited for Troy to be okay.


End file.
